


Nanotech

by piedpiper



Category: Sparks Nevada Marshal on Mars, The Thrilling Adventure Hour
Genre: Aging, Aging Rate Differences, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-21
Updated: 2014-10-21
Packaged: 2018-02-22 01:50:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2490062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/piedpiper/pseuds/piedpiper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Red takes a deep breath, and then another, and says, “Nevada, the way we’re goin’ right now, the two of us are gonna outlive you by centuries.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nanotech

**Author's Note:**

> There was a point on Tumblr when it kind of dawned at once on everyone in the SNMOM fandom that as things are, Croach and Red's nanotech is going to make both of them substantially outlive Sparks. Somehow I ended up being the person to write fic about this.

There’s a pamphlet about bio-augmentation on his desk  _again._

Sparks Nevada stares it down for a moment, then snatches it up, strides into the front room of the Marshal Station where Croach and the Red Plains Rider are engaged in some kind of weird bonding activity like braiding each other’s hair or antennae or whatever, and snaps “Okay, which of you two keeps leavin’ these on my desk?”

Red and Croach both jump guiltily and look up from their chairs at the pamphlet that Sparks is holding.

"Oh," says Red.

"Er," says Croach.

"Uhhh…" says Red.

"Okay, I get it, you think I could use laser vision or whatever," Sparks says. "But I  _really don’t._ I don’t even like cyborgs. I don’t dislike ‘em as much as I used to, but I still don’t like ‘em. I got robot fists already, I don’t need built-in ones. And I keep puttin’ these things in the trash, so _why do you keep givin’ ‘em to me?_ ”

Croach and Red eye the pamphlet, then eye each other, then eye Sparks. He gets the distinct feeling that there’s some kind of nonverbal conversation going on between them that he should really, really know about, because neither of them look happy in the slightest and not just in a Nevada-is-yelling-again way. 

And come to think about it, they’ve been acting weird around him for a while. Come to think of it…

"Guys," he says more quietly, lowering his hand with the pamphlet in it, "guys, what’s going on?"

Red sighs and stands up, her hand distractedly on Croach’s shoulder. “Nevada,” she says, “your hair’s goin’ gray.”

Sparks squints at her. “Yeah, I’ve noticed. So?” He runs a hand through his hair, still spiky as ever if less black than formerly. “I’m forty-four. It happens. Still don’t see what all the fuss’s about.”

Red sighs again, in that way she has where Sparks feels like a not very bright junior ensign getting scolded by his mom, but there’s still something else behind it. “Nevada,” she says, “I’m forty-one.”

"Really? Didn’t know that. You look—" And Sparks stops. Because he knows a lot of women of varying ages, and somehow it has never before occurred to him that Red really, really does not look forty-one. Not in a compliment-y way. In an actual inarguable physical fact way.

"You look younger’n that," he says. "Is that—"

"Nanotech," Red says. "Nevada, I’m not aging."

"Nor am I," Croach chimes in. 

"Well, uh, that’s great for you," Sparks says. "So… apart from rubbin’ in my impendin’ middle age, which don’t actually bother me at all, so ha to you two, what point are you tryin’ to make here exactly?"

Croach and Red glance at each other again, back at Sparks, back at each other in a little dance that’s making Sparks reeeeally antsy. Red takes a deep breath, and then another, and says, “Nevada, the way we’re goin’ right now, the two of us are gonna outlive you by centuries.”

Sparks stares at her. She keeps plunging on. “An’ neither of us wants to but we ain’t got a _choice_ an’ I can’t keep watchin’ you age when I’m stuck like this an’ I don’t wanna watch you  _die_ in front of me!”

Sparks backs up a step, hands upraised, trying to act like he doesn’t feel like he’s been kicked in the chest. “Hey, who said anything about dyin’? I’m plannin’ on bein’ around for a while longer. Ain’t no robots gonna get the upper hand on me.”

"Sure, you’ll be here for fifty, sixty years more." Red sniffs forcefully. "But you’re still gonna die, Nevada. An’ we won’t."

"I have never been given cause to be ungrateful for my Nah Nohtek, as I am under large onus to it," Croach puts in, "but, Sparks Nevada, this is the first time I have ever wished that it worked with less efficiency."

"Guys," Sparks says, and feels like he should probably sit down. He takes Croach’s abandoned chair and hunches over in it, rubs his face with a hand. "Guys, I… I’m sorry. I did not know this was a thing."

"It is a thing, Sparks Nevada," Croach says solemnly. "It has given the Red Plains Rider and I considerable worry over the past few months. I did not previously know that humans had such short natural lifespans." 

And Sparks needs time to think, god, he needs time to think, he needs to reconsider his own lifetime and other people’s and deal with a whole bunch of stuff that he’s been perfectly happy not dealing with up till now. But right now what he’s thinking about is the fact that Croach and Red are standing right in front of him and they look worried  _sick_ about him and the idea that he’s going to leave them behind, and they’ve been worried sick for months. And they’ve been leaving things about bio-augmentation on his stupid desk in the hopes that he might get the hint, and instead he’s been yelling at them.

"You two," he says, "listen. I’m not gettin’ any nanotech installed just yet. But right now I’m not goin’ anywhere. ‘Kay?" He stands up and pulls Red into a quick hug, then Croach into another one that turns into a longer hug. And then, before he can say anything else that he hasn’t thought out as well as he obviously needs to, he goes back into the other room and shuts the door and stares into space for a while, trying not to think of anything at all. Especially how damn scared the two of them looked. 

He tosses the pamphlet back on his desk without reading it, but he doesn’t throw it away either.


End file.
